Nodus Tollens
by temporarytravesty
Summary: A semi-post Season 3 ficlet that's a part of the 23 Emotions challenge from Tumblr. Nodus Tollens describes the feeling that the plot of one's life doesn't make much sense to you anymore.


It had been years– years since DYAD had been dismembered and left in ruins, years since Delphine had been resurrected from the depths of neolution and nurtured back to life by Cosima, years since Cosima had been declared free of the polyps clouding her lungs, years since the sisters had to worry about death stealing them away, and years since Cosima and Delphine had doubted trusting one another.

To say that things had been going well for Delphine's makeshift family would be an understatement– everyone was alive, together, and well.

Ever since Delphine had been shot and left for dead by neolution, abandoned, drowning in her own blood by a pleased Shay, and practically comatose in her own pool of self-depreciating thoughts, the Frenchwoman had been accepted by the sisters she so desperately and feverishly labored to save.

 ** _"I have a theory that before we leave this life, we see what we loved–"_**

When she asked, "What will happen to her?" She received an instantaneous response. Not from the short blonde aiming a gun to her vessel, but her own fragmented, stream of consciousness. She saw her Cosima sporting her signature grin filled with unspoken promises and adoration. She saw her love shucking on her crimson coat and bouncing out the door of her Minnesota apartment to fetch them eskimo pies. She saw her bespectacled co-worker inspecting slide after slide of microscopic hope, _to cure herself and all of her sisters._ She heard her laugh, as the reverberations bounced around the skeletal confines of her ribs. She felt the warmth of a phantom body trailing the pads of her fingers down her back post-intimacy. She tasted the salt coating Cosima's heaving chest as she mapped each dip and curve around her breasts– but then she tasted the copper… the copper Cosima's mouth offered her after a coughing fit like a handful of unwanted, unnecessary pennies. The copper that now spewed from her own body.

How seamlessly currency travels from person to person like the common cold. She saw her love. She saw her love dying. She saw her love with a bloodied hand– a distant memory that fabricated itself on the fleeting present. Cosima always said she would die first. Delphine trembled at the thought. _What would happen to her_ when she realized how very wrong she was?

Everything felt lighter somehow as the seconds passed on into minutes. She had so much life left to live… but she would do it all again. She would crucify herself for a subject she had no intention of falling for.

 _Do I dare_

 _Disturb the universe?_

 _In a minute there is time_

 _For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse._

In a parking garage Delphine stared down (or up?) at the barrel of a gun. Held by a tiny hand that refused to tremble… _click_ … prepared to fire a second round– finish the task it was sent to complete. An encore never came. As the gun was sheathed in a leather satchel, Shay bent down and hovered on her heels of her feet. A smile. Blue eyes blinked innocently, twinkling in the flickering lights poorly illuminating the parking garage. "I'll take good care of her." A beat of silence. She stood up and walked away, the clicking of heels marking her decent down the closest stairway.

She would do it all again. She would do it for her.

 _For I have known them all already, known them all:_

 _Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,_

 _I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;_

 _I know the voices dying with a dying fall_

 _Beneath the music from a farther room._

 _So how should I presume?_

Her eyelids fluttered shut. She had no energy left to give. Exhaustion took over, but she _so_ wanted to try. She wanted to see Cosima again. She needed to protect her. But maybe, just maybe, Cosima didn't need her anymore.

A light, far too bright, forced her to risk a peek at the world she was departing. But the exhaustion… Red. A red coat. A beacon– a logically "unattainable dream–" So close, she could barely lift her hand in an attempt to grasp it. Cosima floated over to her, her apparel clashing violently against the sea of undeserved solace cloaking her.

"Delphine…" That look. Her lovers eyes bore into her soul, almost ebbing away the pain and agony of the moment. "Stay with me." The bands circling the expanse of her fingers felt cool against Delphine's skin. "Press here." Cosima's hand weighed over her own. Fingers rubbing meticulously over Delphine's pale skin.

"Co-si-ma–"

"–Don't. You're not leaving me. You promised." The woman kneeling before her brought her free hand up to cup Delphine's face, tracing the apples of her cheeks. "You've always kept your promises, Delphine…" Her lower lip quivered violently before her canines clamped down on her own trembling flesh. "…I know I didn't always show you how much I… fuck. I love you. You just can't leave me."

Delphine studied her lovers face curiously.

"I need you."

 ** _"–I mean, like, pit-of-the-soul, can't-live-without-it love– and if it's strong enough, sometimes we find our way back."_**

A light, far too bright, forced her to slam her eyes shut.

"Sarah?"

Frantic movement followed. The faces around her all working in boisterous tandem, yet all she could hear was static. Delphine could barely make-out the disheveled Ukrainian lifting her up into the back of an unfamiliar tow truck as the brit moved around the crime scene snatching up her black purse. As Sarah dug around the abyss of clutter occupying the bag, Alison scrubbed the pavement in a frantic, yet eerily composed manner. If Delphine wasn't bleeding out over the backseat, she would have found the soccer mom's demeanor frightening. Sarah pulled out Delphine's phone, triumphantly holding it in the air before smashing it into the ground.

"Keep pressure on boo-boo," the blonde ordered calmly, placing an awkward hand on Delphine's head. "Keep eyes open. Sleep later."

Within a few moments, the others piled into the truck, having left no trace of Delphine having been there other than the remnants of a bugged phone.

Alison led the rescue party to a friend of a friend's home who promised to remain inconspicuous about the whole possibly-fatal-sort've-very-illegal bullet wound draining the life from the immunologist, against the Ukrainian's dismissal to treat Delphine's herself. Sarah and Alison shared a forced laugh before opting with the licensed professional.

"Sh-shay," croaked Delphine from her delirium upon being pressed for information by the brit.

"Shite."

"Holy Doodle."

"Я знав це."

 _And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!_

 _Smoothed by long fingers,_

 _Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,_

 _Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me._

 _Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,_

 _Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?_

Cosima reluctantly met up with Shay upon her insistence at Fung's that same night. She had yet to hear back from her sisters' undercover operation. Upon entering the establishment, the brunette felt jittery. Her nerves, restricting her from acting her normal, care-free self.

"Hey… What's wrong?"

Cosima met the blue eyes gazing into her own with trepidation. Against her initial instinct to look away, look down, look at anything other than the woman in front of her, Cosima kept her eyes locked onto Shay.

"Honestly…" she began, fidgeting with her rings under the table, "I saw Delphine earlier… she was really out of it. Didn't say much and just left." A hostess interrupted her monologue, to collect drink orders, before she shuffled back to the kitchen. Cosima's eyes followed the old woman with empty interest before trailing back to Shay. "I'm just worried. I tried calling her and she hasn't answered." Cosima perched her elbows on the table before burying her head in her clammy hands. Shaking her head, she wiped the sweat from her brow before continuing, "she usually answers… or at least calls back in like, less than a minute."

Shay gave her a noncommittal _hmmm_ before placing a hand atop Cosima's. "She gave me this," offered the blonde as she placed Delphine's DYAD business card on the table-top. "She told me that you can tell me everything… if–if you want to."

The dreaded woman's eyes widened at the code written on the bottom-left corner, " _324b21."_ All too familiar handwriting.

Drinks were placed mechanically beside them, steam spilling from the top of their mugs. "When?" Cosima clutched her coffee with white knuckles, her teeth grinding with unexpected and overbearing anxiety. "When did she give you this?"

"A few hours ago. Around 7 maybe." Shay furrowed her brows feigning confusion. "Is everything alright?"

Before Shay could finish the question, Cosima was grabbing coins from the bottom of her coat pockets and rashly slamming them down on the table. The contact of metal with wood startled the woman across from her, eyes bouncing from tabletop to, a now standing, Cosima.

"I gotta go. Uhm… Sorry." She really wasn't, but without a second glance, the woman was gone.

 _But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,_

 _Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,_

 _I am no prophet — and here's no great matter;_

 _I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,_

 _And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,_

 _And in short, I was afraid._

Delphine was laying on a bed in Alison's guest room when Cosima arrived. Sarah and Alison having opted to wait for her arrival to Clone Club's 2nd unofficial HQ before breaking the news. The clones expected something extreme from Cosima. Extreme melancholy defined by an endless stream of tears perhaps… or untapped rage entailing flying objects or even vocal outcries that would leave the woman with burning lungs. They anticipated having to conceal Felix's pot stash or Alison's dusting alcohol collection but not… that.

Cosima was stoic. She was a zombie with glazed eyes and a rigid posture. Her arms hung loosely at her side and she didn't flinch when her glasses eventually slid off the slide of her nose. Cosima didn't pull away when Sarah went to her side and Alison pulled her out of her coat. She was a carcass– a mannequin– the result of verbal taxidermy.

It wasn't until Helena shuffled down from the second floor with a slew of consonants and vowels Cosima figured to be words, that she moved. "–Delphine–" One word surrounded by a crowd of useless vernacular– a green beacon of light that blinked –gently, soothingly, powerfully– from the fallacious slippery-slope Cosima rode.

Upstairs. Delphine's upstairs.

She climbed the mountain of carpeted steps like a prisoner heading down death-row– a promise of what would have been had she not sent her sisters to intercept her other half. Cosima rested her forehead upon the slab of wood separating the hall from the bedroom.

 _And would it have been worth it, after all,_

 _After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,_

 _Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,_

 _Would it have been worth while,_

 _To have bitten off the matter with a smile,_

 _To have squeezed the universe into a ball_

 _To roll it towards some overwhelming question,_

 _To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,_

 _Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"—_

 _If one, settling a pillow by her head_

 _Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;_

 _That is not it, at all."_

She didn't know what she expected to see when she entered the bedroom. She had no expectations. But an IV bag and heart monitor? _Jesus Christ, what kind of friends does Alison have? Truthfully,_ Cosima didn't care about the unavoidable " _how_ " or " _why_ ," she simply vowed to herself to live in the " _now_ " and cherish the woman she was so dangerously close to losing.

She passed the threshold silently, almost afraid that she would destroy the woman laying peacefully before her. She was petrified that this was a hallucination– one that concealed the reality that Delphine was a corpse preparing for a hasty burial. Delphine deserved the world. Delphine deserved better than the shit show DYAD wrongfully bestowed upon her. Delphine signed her soul to the devil, and Cosima couldn't help but think how the demon almost claimed her soul– a soul that rightfully belonged to her.

Cosima made her way past the web of medical equipment displaying Delphine's heart beat proudly in emerald pixels, folding herself along Delphine's side. Pressing her nose to Delphine's camisole, Cosima bathed herself in the Frenchwoman's fading perfume. Her signature scent of an expensive imported fragrance being overcome by waves of medical adhesives and sodium chloride.

None of this was supposed to happen. Delphine was never supposed to be flown to Frankfurt as a result of Rachel's insuppressible episode of indignant rage. Delphine was never supposed to take over Rachel's position upon her highly-anticipated return. Delphine was never supposed to break up with her. Delphine was never supposed to leave. She was never supposed to exclude her from decisions that would affect the both of them– _again_. Delphine was supposed to keep her promise to love her and her sisters, but not at the expense of _their_ relationship. The whole clusterfuck of decisions that led them to where they were at this moment was never supposed to happen. Then again, Delphine was never supposed to fall in love with her either.

Cosima closed her eyes, trying in vain to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her broken psyche. She sniffled awkwardly, working hard to mask the sounds escaping her lips, contorting with sincere sorrow.

 _And would it have been worth it, after all,_

 _Would it have been worth while,_

 _After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,_

 _After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—_

 _And this, and so much more?—_

 _It is impossible to say just what I mean!_

 _But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:_

 _Would it have been worth while_

 _If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,_

 _And turning toward the window, should say:_

 _"That is not it at all,_

 _That is not what I meant, at all."_

"Cosima?"

The blonde shifted slightly, pulling the brunette closer into her chest.

"Delphine.."

Their eyes met cautiously, a warmth spreading in the blonde's chest at the sight of Cosima clinging to her so tightly.

"Merci, mon amour… for finding me…" Delphine inhaled hungrily, trying to find the right words. "…for telling me you needed me… and that you loved me…" Cosima looked at Delphine questioningly, attempting to place the event Delphine spoke of so fondly.

"I didn–"

"–you have no idea how much I needed that– needed you." The blonde smiled down at the girl resting on her shoulder, clamping her teeth down on her bottom lip with nerves that sprung from the confines of her most cherished memories.

"I'm so glad I said those things to you… because you– because I totally would have said those things if I was… umm there."

Delphine's lips curved downwards into a tight-lipped frown, losing the light Cosima was basking in just moments ago.

"I swore–"

"Shhh… it's fine, Del…" Cosima spoke softly, bringing her left hand up to cup her lover's face once more. Stroking her lips with the pad of her thumb, parting them slightly out of habit. "Just because it didn't physically happen…" a pause. A moment filled with swirling thoughts that threatened to crack open her skull. A milky-white hand cleared a lose dread from Cosima's field of vision. "…doesn't mean it wasn't real."

Delphine's eyes glistened with elation, simply content and overjoyed to be reunited with the woman she was sure she lost for good.

"Je t'aime."

"I love you too."

Cosima closed the distance slowly, savoring the journey to Delphine's lips. The other woman strained to withhold a whimper, barely succeeding as Cosima melted into her broken form. They broke apart reluctantly, both women deflating at the loss of contact. Cosima didn't stray to far however, pressing their foreheads together in a silent promise.

"I need you, Delphine. Don't ever do that to me again…"

Delphine nodded eagerly, never wanting to disappoint the brunette again.

"I need you too."

 _I grow old ... I grow old ..._

 _I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled._

 _Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?_

 _I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach._

 _I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each._

 _I do not think that they will sing to me._

The pair fell asleep quickly, exhausted by the day's sudden and unexpected turn of events. They refused to think of the dangers of tomorrow, refused to worry of the newest threat DYAD housed in plain sight, refused to acknowledge the reality Delphine's failed assassination entailed.

Everything would be okay. It had to be. A life can only manage so much turmoil and devastation before it tears at the seams. Tomorrow would be a different struggle, but a struggle the pair were prepared to tackle together. In slumber they prepared to tackle the hydra.

 _I have seen them riding seaward on the waves_

 _Combing the white hair of the waves blown back_

 _When the wind blows the water white and black._

 _We have lingered in the chambers of the sea_

 _By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown_

 _Till human voices wake us, and we drown._


End file.
